Castle Walls
by Alice Twerkland
Summary: Frozen AU. Alfred didn't remember the night everything went wrong, so of course he couldn't possibly understand why Matthew didn't open the door when he knocked anymore.
1. Chapter 1

_A.N._ I just saw Frozen, and I was thinking about Hetalia for a long time after it was over. So, this was born.

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><p>There was a knock at the door, and Matthew jolted on his bed, the few flurries of snow he'd managed to conjure disappearing in the palm of his hand. "Who is it?" He called, closing his eyes and praying with all he had that it wasn't his little brother.<p>

"It's just me." Matthew breathed a sigh of relief, pulling on his glove and jumping off the bed, hurrying to the door. He opened it a crack, though he regretted it when he caught sight of his mother's smiling face. There was no way he could retreat back to his bed now. "Are you ready?"

The young prince opened the door fully, and he saw his mother's eyes shift up a ways, glancing into the room beyond. Matthew cleared his throat and stepped further out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. There was never a time when his mother wasn't worrying about him, and he wasn't too enthusiastic to see her reaction if she noticed the icicles hanging from his ceiling. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"It's only for a few hours." His mother reassured him. "Your brother turned fourteen today. Your coming to dinner will mean so much to him."

Matthew felt a brief flash of regret, though he fought desperately to keep even that much down and away. Born with the powers of winter at his fingertips, Matthew froze nearly everything he touched. He could create cold winds and blizzards with little effort; sometimes, with no effort at all. As a result, he hid away, shutting himself off from his family.

He left his room as little as possible and checked the lock thirty times over in a day, sitting next to his window and watching the seasons roll by outside while his own personal winter was maintained year-round. The cold had little effect on him physically, but Matthew could feel it on the inside, always lurking beneath the surface of his skin.

When he was a child, Matthew used his power freely – though only in the presence of his parents and brother – without worrying about the consequences, didn't realize that the power he and his brother had ooed and awed over was deadly in its own way.

Matthew's mother always said that he was too warm and sociable a person to live his life behind closed doors. She spent many nights pleading with him from the outside, reassured him that despite the fact they'd had to close the gates, he didn't have to live as a prisoner inside his own home.

For a very long time, he didn't believe her; he still didn't. What he wanted out of life was of little importance when he couldn't even control his own power. No matter his intentions, Matthew was always going to hurt others, and that was something he couldn't take lightly, especially not after what had happened to Alfred.

"Will there be… people there?"

"Only a few of the servants, your father and I, and Alfred, of course." She said, reaching forward to place a reassuring hand on her eldest son's shoulder. Reacting on instinct, the young man flinched away, and the Queen backed off immediately, the skin around her sky-blue eyes crinkling as she forced a shaky smile to her face. "Come along, Matthew. Everyone is waiting on us."

Matthew nodded, walking alongside his mother but taking great care to leave a safe distance between them. The distance was killing him just as it was his family, for he remembered the happiness from before, when the gate was open and their palace wasn't akin to a prison meant to keep Matthew contained. Life was so simple then.

"So," his mother said eventually, the cheer in her voice almost too forced, "what did you do today?"

"I read a few books." Best not to mention that he accidentally froze one of them and ended up breaking off a few of the pages. "And I watched the ships arriving in the fjord."

They were right outside the dining hall, and the guards posted outside seemed surprised to find Matthew walking beside his mother, though they bowed to him no less and opened the doors for them to enter way before Matthew was ready.

Despite his best efforts, Matthew's gaze was drawn to Alfred first. His younger brother was sitting at the head of the table thanks to the occasion, swirling a finger around in his glass of water in a bored fashion, appearing about ready to fall asleep right then and there. Matthew almost smiled – at least Alfred hadn't changed much – but then he noticed the snow white tuft of hair on his sibling's head.

Alfred wasn't born with that cowlick despite their parents' claims that he had been, though the only ones who didn't know that were those outside the palace walls and Alfred himself. When they were young boys, Alfred barely seven years old, they were playing in a wonderland of snow and ice that Matthew had created in the ballroom when he accidentally struck his younger brother with his magic.

The accidental blow had turned that single piece of Alfred's hair white and sapped all heat and any signs of life from his body. Thanks to the magic of the trolls that resided in their kingdom, Alfred had lived through the night, though all memory of Matthew's powers had to be erased from his mind for the cure to work. Compared to what he could've lost that day, Matthew considered losing the closeness he and his brother once shared preferable to losing Alfred completely.

It was difficult, listening to Alfred knock on his door every day to ask if he wanted to come out and play, but it was all for the best. Matthew couldn't even look at his brother without thinking about that night, how he'd come so close to losing the one thing that he thought his powers couldn't touch.

Matthew took a deep breath and worried his gloved hands together nervously.

"Sheesh, Mom, what took you so – " Alfred jolted in his seat when he noticed their arrival, would've knocked over his glass if it weren't for their father's quick reflexes. "Oh, my God, Mattie!"

The young prince shared an amused glance with his mother before meeting his younger brother's astonished stare with a small smile. "Happy birthday, Al."

His brother was grinning from ear to ear, and while Matthew would've rather preferred to sit in the seat furthest from his brother's side, he couldn't bear the thought of disappointing Alfred anymore than he already had, especially on his birthday. It was because of Matthew that Alfred couldn't have a proper celebratory ball in the first place.

So, Matthew took the seat on Alfred's right, across from their father, while the Queen sat down beside her husband, flashing Matthew one last smile before devoting her attention to her youngest son. "Did we get you good, Al?"

"Did you ever!" Alfred exclaimed, still staring at Matthew, as if trying to make sure his brother didn't disappear again. "Best present by far. I can't believe you got the hermit to leave his cave."

"Very funny." Matthew said, absently reaching for his fork but thinking better of it at the last second, letting his hand fall uselessly back to his lap. It had been… what, nearly four or five years since he'd last eaten dinner with his family? Regrettably, he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. From the looks on his parents' faces, they fully expected him to be able to control his power, but Matthew wasn't sure if he could. He'd been practicing since the accident, but even with his gloves on, sometimes whatever he was holding froze over if he was anxious enough. "I could always head back if you insist on being a brat."

Realizing at the last second how inappropriate and cruel such a statement had been, Matthew stared down at his plate while Alfred flailed to make amends. "No! I'm sorry, that's not what I – "

"Boys." Their father said, though all Matthew heard was his name and his name only. "Just relax and be kind to one another. I think we all want to enjoy this night."

Both boys nodded, and Matthew was saved from saying anything more by the servants entering the room with their dinners. Matthew observed the assortment of offered foods, none too surprised that everything mostly consisted of meat and various sweets. Alfred had never been one for anything green or even remotely healthy. "So, Al," Matthew said, probably shocking everyone at the table or otherwise, "how does it feel to be fourteen?"

"Pretty awesome." Alfred replied, eyes darting back and forth between the forks on either side of his plate before making a grab for the appropriate one. He'd actually grabbed the salad fork, though because of the occasion, no one said a word. "I mean, do I feel the same as I did yesterday? Yeah. But get this, Mattie. I got to go outside today! Like, not the courtyard, but the actual town."

"Really?" Matthew said, though he'd known that already, had seen his brother from his window earlier in the day. It took him a moment to recognize the figure dashing around the streets below, though when he did, a feeling of loneliness had overcome him. While his isolation was a conscious choice, there wasn't a thing Matthew wouldn't give to be able to run around freely with his brother again. "How was that?"

"It was amazing!" It was almost frightening how skilled Alfred was at speaking with a mouth stuffed with food. Matthew understood him almost perfectly. "I ran into a group of kids, and they didn't even know who I was until my guards caught up with me. Then they got all weird and stuff. Oh, and I saw a reindeer, but whoever it was that owned it started yelling at me from across the street, so I left before I got into any trouble."

"Sounds like you had an interesting afternoon." Everyone was already eating, but Matthew was too busy trying to focus on grabbing his fork without freezing the metal over. His father had taken notice and was watching him carefully, a look of encouragement on his face as he nodded slightly to his son. Matthew bit his lip. "It's a pity you can't go out more often."

"Tell me about it." Alfred griped, slipping into their old familiarity almost too easily. Matthew threw caution to the wind and grabbed his fork, surprised and delighted when nothing happened. "I wish you'd been there. Imagine the looks on those kids' faces if they'd met the future King of Arendelle! It would've been hysterical."

The concept may have been a little amusing, and while Matthew had always known that the citizens loved him just as much as they did Alfred and their parents, he often wondered what they would think if they knew about his power. "I just… like it better indoors." Matthew said, chewing a scalloped potato carefully as Alfred shot him an incredulous look.

"We used to play outside all the time!"

"Yeah, when we were kids." A seed of panic was blooming in Matthew's stomach, though he fought to keep it under control, and the fork in his hand remained unaffected. "Things change."

Alfred was quiet for a time, during which their parents struck up conversation with one another, discussing how their sons had been as boys and foreign trade policies, and Alfred took the opportunity to speak quietly to Matthew. "Why are you wearing those gloves? It's summer, not to mention hot as sin in here."

Feeling uncomfortable, Matthew took a drink of water, telling himself that he was just imaging the ice within the glass growing. "I always forget to take them off. Sometimes I can't even tell I'm wearing them."

"But I never see you without them now." Alfred countered, bold now that their parents weren't paying them much attention. "Not that I ever see you at all."

Matthew clutched at his fork. "Alfred – "

"Can't you just… come out for a little while? It's not as fun pulling pranks on the servants by myself."

"You shouldn't be doing it at all."

"When did you get to be such a stick in the mud?"

"I'm not, it's just – "

Matthew froze mid-sentence, eyes glued to the fork in his hand that had somehow turned to solid ice without his notice. Alfred was too oblivious to see, staring hard at his older brother, who tossed the fork under the table before abruptly standing up. Their parents turned to look at him, worry in their eyes as Matthew struggled to find words to say. "I'm afraid I must retire to my room now." He choked out before turning on his heel and fleeing from the dining hall, pushing past the hovering servants and guards without touching them at all.

This palace may have been his home, but Matthew didn't feel at peace anywhere that wasn't his own bedroom. There, he could freeze over whatever he pleased and no one would see or care; but out here, there was so much to harm, too many things to destroy, and even if Alfred hadn't noticed the fork, Matthew couldn't risk his brother finding out about his powers and possibly getting hurt again.

Or even worse, hating Matthew for the curse the sixteen-year-old had been born with.

Relief flooded Matthew's being as he approached his bedroom door, his frantic running slowing down, but he was forced to stop as something snagged his wrist, nearly tugging off his glove in the process. "Matthew, wait!" Alfred was panting, blue eyes wide and intense and pleading as Matthew struggled to free himself. "I didn't mean to make you mad. I just – I don't know what to say to you anymore. Just stop shutting me out, okay? That's all I want. And since it's my birthday, you should give that to me."

"Let go of me!" Matthew wrenched his arm from his brother's grasp, and he'd have half a mind to be shocked by his sibling's strength if he weren't so terrified. "There are things you just don't understand, things you can't change, but that doesn't mean you're not important to me, or that I don't care about you, Al."

"Then what's the deal?" Alfred cried, and Matthew could see his parents approaching from down the hall, quickening their strides when they notice the confrontation. Matthew backed up, inching toward his door. "I woke up one day and you were just gone. I mean, you were technically still around, but barely. You say you care about me, but you act so distant and cold whenever we're together."

"Shut up." Matthew snapped, because he thought about it a lot, his power overshadowing everything he was and had once been and turning him as cold as the magic he wielded, a person unable to feel even an ounce of affection for the brother he loved so desperately. "You don't know a damn thing, not about me or anything else!"

Alfred blinked in obvious shock, his mouth falling open as he stared at his brother, apparently at a loss for words. Matthew took the opportunity to slip into his room before their parents reached them, slamming the door shut and locking it with finesse only achieved with practice.

The temperature in the room dropped as Matthew stood with his forehead pressed to the door, breathing through clenched teeth in an attempt to control himself. "Conceal it." He whispered, clenching his fists against the rapidly cooling wood. His father always told him to repeat that when Matthew felt himself slipping, though as years wore on, the desired affect was hard to come by. "Don't feel it. Don't let him see."

Matthew had been right when he said his brother didn't know anything. Couldn't he tell that it physically pained Matthew to have to be so brisk with him, that their loss of friendship affected him just as badly, if not more so? Alfred couldn't remember how it had been, how much it meant to Matthew to see the wonder and awe in his brother's eyes whenever he used his magic. Alfred was the one who'd made him love his curse, but then turned around and made Matthew despise it.

Alfred didn't remember the night everything went wrong, so of course he couldn't possibly understand why Matthew didn't open the door when he knocked anymore.

"Alfred, sweetheart?" His mother's voice reached him then, and he could imagine his parents standing close to Alfred, who was most likely still standing frozen in place. "What's the matter?"

There was a brief silence, then Matthew heard a small sniffle. He backed away from the door, horrified. "Matthew hates me."

"Your brother doesn't hate you, Al."

"Your father is right. Matthew loves you very much. There are just some things that he has to work out on his own. He'll come around eventually."

"I must have done something. He can't even be in the same room as me for more than ten minutes." Alfred said, sounding so desperate and lost that Matthew started to feel sick. "What did I do wrong?"

Snow was falling from the ceiling when Matthew turned around, and while it wasn't nearly as violent as some of his previous creations had been, there was still something quietly chaotic about it, and Matthew had to suppress the urge to escape from the room and into the arms of his family; but he couldn't, not until he learned to overcome his own magic.

As things stood, Matthew feared that time would never come.

"You trusted me to control it, Al. That's all."


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: _Yeah, yeah, I know. This was supposed to be a oneshot, but I wanted to do something in celebration of sorts for the Frozen DVD coming out. Obviously, it came out the 18th, I was just super slow with this.

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><p>Alfred was maybe… five years old when he attended his first funeral. He didn't really remember much about it, only knew that the funeral had been the former Queen of Arendelle's – his grandmother's. She'd died peacefully in her sleep with no apparent complications, and when he and his brother were told, neither of them shed a single tear; Matthew because he thought it unbecoming of a prince to cry before others, and Alfred because he had no concept of death at such an age.<p>

Truthfully, Alfred hadn't felt a single ounce of upset or grief throughout the entire process. His family did an excellent job of keeping any negative emotions hidden during the funeral and in the weeks leading up to it, so with his parents in apparent stability, Alfred himself was content.

It wasn't until the casket was being lowered into the ground that Alfred began to fidget, remembering that what his mother had said about Granny having fallen asleep inside the wooden box. If she were put in the ground, and the men with odd looks on their faces and long sticks continued to put dirt on her, how would she ever wake up?

Alfred did remember that slow building upset in his stomach, how he'd clutched tighter to his mother's black dress despite the fact that she'd told him not to cling. He'd wanted to speak, wail, scream, _anything_ to wake up his granny before she could no longer hear him, but then his older brother grabbed his hand. Mattie was so strong, even then, picking up Alfred's broken pieces as well as his own, and five-year-old Alfred had been consoled in that moment, even if no words were spoken between them. His brother smiled warmly in his direction, and everything was suddenly okay.

So, long story short, Alfred's first funeral hadn't been an especially memorable affair. Sure, the weeks afterward had been long and confusing, riddled with a strange mixture of all different kinds of weather throughout. Mattie would take Alfred out when he started asking where his grandmother was and play in the snow with him. Alfred had thought even nature was mourning the loss of his granny. The sky couldn't even think straight enough to remember that snow didn't belong in summer. Alfred still wasn't quite sure how that even happened. Everything about that year was just… odd.

But then, Alfred never expected that the second funeral he'd attend would take place nearly eleven years after the first, or that the guests of honor would be his parents, or even that there would be no bodies to bury.

He couldn't believe it, didn't understand. His parents went to sea all the time for business in foreign lands. The waters were always tame, welcoming, and Alfred never once considered that the seas he grew up watching from afar would take his parents from him.

They'd only been going to his cousin's wedding in Corona. They should've made it there and back in one piece; but they didn't. The King and Queen of Arendelle were lost at sea, leaving their two teenage sons… two _estranged _teenage sons, behind.

At the very least, Alfred thought the death of his parents would bring Matthew – a shut in since he was ten years old – out of his room; but he'd been wrong about that. Alfred cried for days after his parents died, unsure of what to do with himself now that the only two members of his family who still talked to him were gone.

The servants did what they could, cooked all his favorite meals and ensured that he never spent more than an hour by himself, but the raw feelings of loneliness and grief were almost too much for the sixteen-year-old to bear.

He didn't want to go to the funeral. He didn't want to hear anyone's condolences, their thoughts on the matter, or their inquiries about how he was fairing; but Alfred was a prince. He didn't have the luxury of a private grieving period, and on a basic, almost primal plane of his being, Alfred _wanted_ to go outside.

And he did. Alfred dressed himself and followed after his nursemaids, Angelique and Emma. He didn't make a sound as they hustled him into a carriage and carted him off to the burial grounds of the royal family. The young prince soaked in every sound, every smell, and when he saw the grieving faces of the villagers they passed, he soaked them in as well, because it had been so long since he interacted with people outside the palace walls.

Everything was too much, a vicious influx of sensory input that left Alfred overwhelmed and subdued. It worried his nursemaids to no end, and they fussed over him more than they normally would have until it was time for the funeral to begin and Alfred had to stand apart.

It wasn't until that moment, when all the fussing stopped and he was suddenly alone amongst the sea of faces with his back to the waters that had taken his parents from him, that Alfred realized he was alone; Matthew hadn't shown up.

Alfred had never considered the fact that his brother would continue to hide away even though their parents' funeral. In fact, the first thought Alfred had when he learned of the accident was that he'd finally have an excuse to see Matthew for the first time in years. Not even such a devastating loss had been able to convince the future King of Arendelle to face his younger brother. Somehow, it hurt far worse than the death of his parents had.

It was the first time in his life that Alfred had to stand on his own. No parents and no brother at his side. He was completely and utterly alone. There were no bodies to bury unlike when his grandmother died, but it didn't stop a fierce wave of panic and nausea from coursing through him. He felt as if he could pass out, and he noticed Angelique and Emma amongst the crowd lurching in their places, as if fighting off the urge to come to his rescue.

He watched them, if only briefly. With no Matthew to distract him, his nursemaids bore the brunt of Alfred's mischievous habits. When his parents were busy with running the kingdom, Angelique would play games with him in the halls, tiring him out so Emma could read stories to him before he fell asleep. They weren't so much nursemaids now that he was older. Honestly, he wasn't quite sure what to call them, only knew that they were present, and Matthew was not.

The part of Alfred still clinging to childhood ached for his brother's presence, wanted to cling to his hand the day he had when they buried their grandmother; but apparently, Matthew loathed him too much now to even consider breathing the same air, let alone hold Alfred's hand and coddle him like a child.

Alfred hadn't been reared for the kingship like Matthew had, but he was still a prince, and he knew how to act accordingly even if he didn't necessarily want to most of the time. So, mindful of Emma's and Angelique's gaze on him, Alfred had held his chin high and somehow managed to keep his tears at bay throughout the entire day.

It was entirely too exhausting, and by the time they returned to the palace, Alfred was almost glad to hear the gates closing soundly behind them. He shrugged Angelique and Emma off immediately, claiming that he needed space, and they allowed him that, though Alfred had a feeling Angelique would've tailed him if only Emma would let her.

They must have assumed he would walk around aimlessly for hours until he came crawling back to his room, but for once, Alfred actually had a set destination in mind. He took his time, walking through the darkened halls that had once made him feel safe. Now they just felt oppressing, like a cage. He used to draw on them, hated them enough to do so even if it made Emma sigh in disappointment and Angelique swear at the ceiling in French.

Alfred tugged at his sleeves, irritated with the scratchy material and desperately wishing for the loose-fitting comfort of his nightclothes, which he knew were probably laid out on his bed by now, just waiting for him. Alfred glanced up fleetingly – he honestly wasn't quite sure if he was going the right way, apprehension, exhaustion, and grief clouding his mind – but he honed in instantly on his brother's door, just to the left of him.

The designs on the painted wood were as familiar to Alfred as the ones on his own door. How often had he sat outside Matthew's room as a kid, just watching and waiting for his best friend to finally, _finally _make an appearance? Alfred sighed to himself, all too familiar with this overdone routine, and lifted a hand to knock on his brother's door. "Matthew?"

Complete silence. Alfred wasn't quite sure if he was expecting anything different, but he felt as if he deserved at least some sound. "I know you're in there." Usually Alfred would leave at this point, but not today, not after what he'd just been through. "And I know you can hear me."

Alfred could hear voices down the hall, but he knew no one would try to come down this way, not this late at night. The servants brought Matthew his meals everyday and left them outside the door, but other than that, there was no reason for anyone to venture to this part of the palace. He and his parents were the only ones who came consistently for various reasons.

"We had a funeral for Mom and Dad today." Alfred continued, hand still pressed against the door, almost wishing that he could knock the damn thing down and force Matthew to acknowledge him; but he could never do that, no matter how frustrated he felt with his brother most of the time. Matthew had his reasons, and whether Alfred wanted to admit it or not, he knew that he'd done something to make his brother upset. "People asked where you were. I told them you weren't feeling well, but… I don't think they believed me."

Alfred sniffed subconsciously, and any resolve he had to be upset with his brother evaporates when he realized that he was crying. "Everyone's telling me to be strong about this, you know? It's like, just 'cause I'm a prince I can't have human emotions or be upset about this in front of anybody. But Angie and Emma at least act like they understand. Even with their support, I'm still barely holding it together. I was thinking… if I have them, and I'm still struggling, how are you dealing with it?"

It was easier to say those things behind the safety of the door. Sometimes Alfred even forgot that there was a living, breathing person beyond it. He couldn't forget in that moment, however, felt closer to Matthew than he had in years, and it was strange. He'd had one-sided conversations numerous times before, but this time, it felt as if the things he was saying actually mattered.

"They were your parents, too." The tears just kept coming, everything he refused to express during the day bubbling to the surface, and he felt younger than he had in a long time. "You had every right to be there! If you thought you didn't, I mean. It's just us now that they're gone, Matthew. If anyone's going to help us through this, it's going to have to be each other."

After standing for most of the day, Alfred was tired of it, and he chose to sit on the ground in front of the door just as he did when he was younger, pressing his back to the chilled wood. He pulled his knees to his chest, suddenly terrified, because what was he going to do without his parents? He could curb the loneliness brought on by Matthew's physical disappearance by spending time with his mom and dad, but now that they were gone, Alfred had a feeling it was going to be significantly harder.

He wanted Matthew back. Desperately. He missed having a best friend, and while Angelique and Emma were as close as he was going to get, they were adults and his parents' hired help. They stayed by him because it was their job. It was everyone's job in this entire stupid palace to stay with Alfred and take care of him. No one was here of their own volition. No one truly cared. Not even his own brother loved him enough to unlock his door.

Alfred squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around his knees as a shiver went up his spine. The air wafting out from beneath Matthew's door was freezing, and Alfred briefly wondered if his brother had opened his window, had watched the funeral even from afar. Alfred wanted to go to sleep desperately, but he felt if he got up and left now, that this would be the end, that he would never be able to convince himself to come back, to try again.

There was no point anyway. Matthew wouldn't budge. He'd always been stubborn if nothing else. Regardless, Alfred had to do something. A last ditch effort of sorts. He couldn't keep doing this anyway, sitting around like some lost child when he was sixteen years old; but Matthew must have felt at least some obligation to him, as Alfred's older brother… right?

It could be like when their grandmother died, when Matthew dragged Alfred out of bed, laughing about snowmen while Alfred whined that the sky wasn't even awake, not to mention summer. Matthew always managed to somehow pull off the impossible, and Alfred loved and adored him so much, didn't think there was a thing in the world his big brother couldn't do.

"Mattie… do you wanna build a snowman?"

There were a few moments of tense silence, everything hanging by a single thread, and even though Alfred knew even beforehand that he'd never get an answer, he stayed until the chilling breeze coming from beneath the door made it impossible for him to stay.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: _Well, the majority of you want me to make something of this, and frankly, I'm all too happy to oblige. I like this AU. _A lot._ I probably won't do much with it, however. Just a few more snippets and stuff. And I always pictured France as Hans for some reason. I love France, _like so much you don't even, _but I felt it was necessary.

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><p>"Oh, Alfred. If only there were someone out there who loved you."<p>

Alfred's eyes snapped open at that, pupils blown impossibly wide for a number of reasons. Frankly, it was the fastest he'd moved since arriving at the palace, and Francis offered the boy a sardonic smile before pulling away, allowing his fingers to remain underneath Alfred's chin just a moment longer than was necessary.

Francis moved away from the chaise at a leisurely pace, almost able to _feel _the confusion and denial settling low in the Prince of Arendelle's stomach. "Y – You said you did." Alfred stuttered, voice quiet from the cold or for fear of what Francis would say next, and Francis felt a twinge of self-satisfaction that he'd managed to keep up such a convincing façade; but then, Alfred was so naïve it was almost laughable, so it hadn't been particularly hard.

Francis reached out to pull at the curtains, taking a quick glimpse at the chaos ensuing outside before pulling the drapes together. To think that the mysterious King Matthew was capable of such a thing, though it had given Francis just the opportunity he needed to take absolute control.

"As thirteenth in line for the throne, I knew I didn't stand a chance back home." Francis said, turning around to face the near dark of the room. Alfred was still laying prostrate on the chaise, clutching at himself in a feeble attempt to keep warm. "I knew I'd have to marry into the throne somewhere."

"What are you t – talking about?" Alfred asked while Francis calmly pulled off one of his gloves, extinguishing the candles on the table just beside the boy's head. With each light that went out, the hazy look in Alfred's azure irises slowly disappeared, replaced by a terror the likes of which the sheltered prince had probably never known before.

To be frank, the boy brought this entirely upon himself. Francis hadn't planned on bumping into the exuberant prince the morning of Matthew's coronation, and he _certainly _hadn't counted on Alfred falling for him so completely, or so quickly. Of course, everything worked out in Francis's favor.

"As heir, Matthew was preferable of course, but no one was getting anywhere with him. Not to mention that the King is expected to take a _female_ lover to continue the royal bloodline." Francis went on, noting how the boy's sudden flinch had absolutely nothing to do with the chill consuming his body. "No, in the end, you were the most ideal solution to my little issue. And you made it _so_ easy for me, Alfred. You were so desperate for love that it only took a few sweet words to convince you."

That wasn't necessarily true, if Francis's memory was accurate. He'd spent all night digging and prying, gently coaxing information out of the gullible prince until he had a better grasp on the situation. It had quickly become obvious to him that Alfred felt utterly abandoned by his brother and, starved for affection, latched onto the comfort Francis offered.

He had been deliberate with his words and actions, his first goal to make Alfred feel at ease with him presence before moving in. Francis knew he had nothing to worry about, for it was obvious to him even at their first meeting that Alfred fancied gentlemen, if his nervous fumbling and insistent staring was anything to go by. Francis had to thank Matthew for his inattentive behavior toward his younger sibling. He'd left Alfred utterly defenseless in the presence of a handsome face and gallant appeal. Francis did feel some remorse over abusing the notion of true love, but it had been absolutely necessary.

"Francis! Don't!" Alfred's capacity for speech was dwindling along with his mobility, though he had enough drive left in him to lurch and fall off the chaise completely as he reached out in a feeble attempt to stop Francis from dousing the crackling fire before them with a pitcher of water. "S – Stop."

"I figured after we married, I'd have to stage a little accident for Matthew." Alfred looked up at him in horror, and Francis briefly wondered what the boy would do if he knew his precious brother was just below them, confined and chained just as any respectable monster should. "But then he doomed himself, and you were idiotic enough to go after him. All that's left now is to kill Matthew and bring back summer."

Francis watched with a vague sense of wonder as Alfred managed to push himself up onto his elbows, shaking with cold and effort; he really was so close to death by that point, but the fire present in his eyes when he managed to look up into Francis's was akin to how Matthew had looked while he was attacking the Duke of Weselton's stooges.

They were most definitely kin. They only fought back when every other option had been exhausted, when their very lives were on the line. It was rather pathetic. "_Don't…_ underestimate my brother." Alfred heaved as he spoke, the white streaks in his hair increasing in size with every word. "You're no match – for Matthew."

Francis liked to think he knew a thing or two about brothers, having twelve of them himself. Sure, the concept of sibling bonds was a beautiful one, if not trite in nearly every way. His own brothers probably wouldn't bat an eye if Francis were to suddenly drop from the face of the earth. Becoming King of Arendelle would fix nearly everything. Francis would finally have power and notoriety. Perhaps then his brothers would consider him an equal. Not everything he'd told Alfred the night of Matthew's coronation was a lie simply made up to gain even a bit of Alfred's trust.

Humans gravitated toward what they knew, after all, though Francis could relate to the little prince more than he would've liked to admit.

Francis knew about brothers, and Matthew was _nothing_ like the brutes Francis had grown up around. When Francis delivered the news of Alfred's death to Matthew, he was certain the man would give up. The look that had been on his face when Francis told him Alfred had yet to return from the mountains was anything but fabricated. These brothers would be each other's complete and utter downfall. Francis had known fairly early on that he could use that to his advantage.

"No." Francis said quietly, crouching down to stare directly into Alfred's eyes and delivering a final flick to the boy's snow-white cowlick before standing up again. "_You're_ no match for Matthew. _I_ on the other hand am the hero who will save Arendelle from destruction."

Francis made his way toward the door, pulling his glove back over his fingers; but Alfred wasn't finished, though he soon would be. "You won't get away with this." His voice was tired and weak, cracking under the effort of trying to sound fearless but failing miserably. Francis nearly laughed. "Someone will – will – _h__ah._"

"_Oh_." Francis said mournfully, as if speaking to a small child. He turned back to look at Alfred, offering the boy a condescending smirk. Alfred's jaw clenched dangerously, and Francis would have expected a brawl if the boy weren't already knocking on Death's door. "I'm afraid I already have."


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: _I've been thinking about this ever since I wrote the first chapter, who I would have as Kristoff if I ever did continue. As luck would have it, I did continue, and I was _so conflicted_ you have no idea. Russia or England? Russia for obvious reasons, England because USUK is my reason for breathing, so you can imagine how hard this was for me. I went with England in the end. Literally could not help myself.

I didn't change Sven's name, mostly because I couldn't come up with an alternative one, but I did end up changing Olaf's because... well, you'll see. Moving on!

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><p>Despite being a quiet person, Arthur was rather used to loud social settings. Not to say that they didn't make him grossly uncomfortable, but after being adopted into a massive family of trolls as a boy, Arthur was nearly desensitized to chaos.<p>

This, however, was a different situation entirely. Arthur had never attended a party in his life; and the birthday surprises Bulda tried to arrange for him over the years hardly counted. The ball Alfred had insisted Arthur attend was in full swing by now, though Arthur kept a safe distance away from most of the activity, pressed up against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

Alfred assured him multiple times that no one would be rude or exclude Arthur, and he was partially right. Arthur was the one excluding himself, but the men and women who passed by and noticed his presence all gave him a quick once over, scrutinizing, as if they could tell he wasn't of their caliber just from looking at him.

He wouldn't say as much, but it was a bit disheartening. Alfred's affections were a privilege Arthur wasn't quite sure he deserved, but he did all he could to ensure that he was the partner _Alfred _deserved, even if it meant attending stupid parties.

The only silver lining was catching glimpses of Alfred's face, eyes alight with unbridled joy and cheeks full of color. It always set Arthur's frazzled nerves at ease, because even after a month, he'd yet to erase the horrific image of Alfred – white-haired, blue lipped, and half dead – from his mind. He had nightmares about it sometimes, was consumed by that feeling of hopelessness and self-loathing because he couldn't get to Alfred in time, but he was very careful about keeping the truth from the prince.

Al deserved the happiness he'd found again after reconnecting with his brother, and Arthur wasn't willing to ruin even a moment. Even if it meant suffering through these stifling parties, he would do it for the sake of Al's happiness.

But there was only so much Arthur could handle in a single setting. The party was more crowded than usual, and without having caught so much as a glimpse of Alfred in hours, Arthur decided to slip away for a quick breather, intent on returning before Alfred even noticed he was gone.

He escaped to a balcony down the hall from the main entrance to the ballroom, breathing in the crisp evening air as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. He could see the stables from his vantage point, and a very large portion of his being was urging him to go down there. Arthur felt he would be more comfortable with Sven and Tony, who was often sent to the stables with Sven when parties were held in the palace.

Apparently not everyone was as susceptible to the idea of a talking snowman as the citizens of Arendelle were, though the banishment never seemed to bother Tony. He was content enough to smell the summer air, among other things, while he was in the stables.

Arthur groaned, leaning forward with his elbows on the concrete banister, staring out at the terrain below. "What am I doing here?" He mused to himself.

It was something he found himself wondering a lot as of late. Arthur was so in love with Alfred it was almost embarrassing, but even that wasn't enough to make the man forget the fact that he didn't really belong in Al's world. The boy was a prince, for God's sake; and what was Arthur but an unapproachable mountain man who more often than not said and did the wrong things?

Matthew was tolerating him now, but what would happen when Al was required to carry on his family's bloodline? The thought nearly made Arthur physically ill, but it really wasn't his place to protest, should that day ever come.

"Arthur?" The green-eyed man jumped slightly, straightening up and turning around to find Alfred walking toward him, face flushed and eyes bright. "You okay?"

"Fine. Yes, I'm fine." Arthur coughed, clearing his throat, as Al moved closer. "What are you doing out here?"

"I saw you leave." Alfred said simply, stepping up beside Arthur and leaning over the railing a bit, taking in the surroundings just as Arthur had. "I wasn't sure if you were sick or drunk or just wanted some air. So, watcha doin'?"

"Enjoying the evening." Arthur replied, and his voice sounded strained, even to his own ears. If Al noticed, he thankfully didn't comment. It hadn't always been that way. Things between them had been fine, better than fine, the first few weeks after everything died down; but then Arthur started having his doubts around the time he was forced to attend an event.

The differences between he and Alfred were easier to ignore when they were up in the mountains together. They'd been in Arthur's element then, and he'd thought he had control over the situation, though he'd been powerless to stop himself from growing attached to an engaged man. Everything had been about keeping Alfred safe then, but now that they were here in Al's domain, Arthur was beginning to see that he couldn't do a thing for him, couldn't even stomach through one measly party.

Arthur started slightly when he felt a touch on his hand, and when he spared a glance, Alfred was smiling at him, pieces of hair falling in front of his eyes with the force of the wind. Arthur's mouth ran dry, but he closed his hand around Al's despite his nerves. Al was almost unbearably attractive, especially when he wasn't even trying.

"Come on." The young prince said, tugging on Arthur's hand. "I wanna show you something."

Arthur allowed himself to pulled back inside without protest, somewhat dreading the idea of heading back to the ballroom; but Alfred turned in the opposite direction, heading _away _from the party, and any feelings of dread quickly changed into those of curiosity. The palace was almost eerily quiet the further away from the festivities they ventured, and Arthur realized this must have been the castle Alfred had grown up in, the desolate place he always spoke of.

Arthur had yet to see that place when the sun was up. There was always something going on, people wandering around for one reason or another, and the silence was a little off-putting. Alfred remained oblivious, completely at home as he led Arthur to a room where the door always seemed to be closed, Arthur remembered, opened it, and pushed Arthur inside.

Paintings. Dozens of them, artifacts Arthur doubted he would see any place else. While Arthur stood still, taking it all in, Alfred moved further into the room, hands clasped together behind his back as he walked. "I spent a lot of time in here when I was a kid." Al said, his voice bouncing off the walls. "Don't judge me, but I used to talk to them like they were my friends. They were the only ones who listened and didn't try to… I don't know, force me to not be sad."

Arthur swallowed and followed after Alfred, upset for some unfathomable reason. "That one's Joan." Al continued, pointing in the direction of a panting Arthur couldn't quite make out in the gloom. "And there's Charlie, Evelyn, Marie… " He trailed off, and the look on his face was thoughtful, almost reverent. Arthur was extremely put off by it, was so used to the Alfred who blurted things out without thinking and always forgot just how strong he was, both physically and mentally. "You know, I haven't had a reason to come in here in nearly a month. So weird."

The last bit was almost said just to himself, but Arthur piped up anyway. "It's because you don't need them anymore. You have _real _friends that… talk back now."

"Among other things." Alfred replied, smiling in response to a joke Arthur couldn't hear. "But I guess you're right. Still. I did miss them. Or the comfort they gave me, anyway."

Arthur understood that perfectly well, and while Sven wasn't just a painting mounted on a wall, he was still an animal that couldn't really talk back. Al had told him about the years of near isolation he'd suffered when Matthew refused to leave his bedroom, but Arthur never really understood until this moment the true depth of the loneliness he endured as a boy.

Alfred really was looking at the pictures like they were long lost friends, and as Arthur looked around the spacious room, he couldn't help but imagine a younger Alfred sitting alone in the middle of the floor, the same boy he'd been that day so many years ago when Arthur watched Grand Pabbie heal him.

Of course, Arthur hadn't known it was Alfred then, only realized it when Matthew spoke to him one day when Al wasn't around to hear, explained what had happened the night he decided to shut himself away from his family.

"Al was so… still." Matthew had said, gaze fixated on some faraway point while realization slowly dawned on Arthur. "I thought for sure that I'd killed him. It was awful."

"I remember. I was there that night, I – I saw everything."

"So, you knew about my powers all this time? And you never said a word?"

"It wasn't my place to say anything. I vaguely remember Grand Pabbie saying something about powers, but he'd been more concerned about your well being than anyone else's. I thought I had no reason to be worried about it. I mean, not to say that I should've been worried, I didn't even know that was you until now but – um – "

Matthew had laughed, interrupting Arthur's nervous fumbling – it was the first time he'd been around Matthew without Al around – and turned that small, hesitant smile of his to the mountain man. Matthew really was reserved, not at all like his younger brother, but some part of Arthur had wondered if the young King had… forgotten how to truly smile in his years spent isolated from the real world. "I can see why Al is so taken with you, Arthur."

Matthew's strange behavior aside, that was the start of Arthur's long journey toward enlightenment, or at least where Al was concerned. To not even remember _why_ a person he loved so dearly was ignoring him had hurt Alfred deeply, and he'd spent so long trying to hide it, only dropping his guard when he was in the presence of these paintings, the only things in this world that had probably ever seen the young prince cry.

"Crap, I just made it worse, didn't I?" Alfred said miserably, jerking Arthur out of his thoughts. "I brought you here to make you feel better, but it's obviously not working. I'm sorry, it always worked for me, so – "

"No, no, it's not – " Arthur cut himself off, holding back a frustrated groan as he scrambled for ways to bring that smile back to Al's face and coming up empty handed. "What do you mean you brought me here to make me feel better?"

"Well, you're upset about something. I can tell." Alfred said, turning to face Arthur fully. He looked concerned and had taken to worrying his hands together nervously. "It wasn't the party, was it? I know you hate those things, so if that's what's wrong I can – "

"No, it's not that, Alfred."

"What is it then?" Alfred asked, eyes narrowing in confusion. "You can tell me, you know. I can't promise to tell you exactly what to do about it, but I'll listen."

Of course he would listen. Alfred was just like that, kind and wonderful and inherently good. Sure, he said the wrong thing more often than not – Arthur was known to do just the same thing – but his intentions were good. Al cared so much about everyone, refused to give up even if the entire world was against him. He'd fought tooth and nail to get his brother back from the brink, even put up with a surely man like Arthur who was prepared to let the prince wander off on his own upon their first meeting.

Arthur stared at Alfred desperately, wanted to convey with no misunderstanding how much he cared about him, that Arthur was so sorry Francis ever laid a hand on Alfred and that the prince would never have to resort to confiding in oil paintings ever again; but Al was incredibly dense. Even now he didn't understand that Arthur's agitation had nothing to do with the party so much as the concerns it brought about.

How could he possibly explain to Al how much he loved him, when Arthur couldn't even ask for permission to kiss him without screwing it up somehow?

"Your last name is Jones." Arthur finally blurted out, and Alfred blinked. "Your favorite food is chocolate, your best friend's name is Matthew, your eyes are blue, and your foot size is yet to be determined."

It was official. Arthur Kirkland was absolutely _the_ _dumbest_ son of a bitch to ever step foot in Arendelle. He frankly couldn't remember feeling so embarrassed, and it didn't help matters any that Alfred was just _staring _at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open though no words were coming out.

Eventually, when Arthur's inane urge to flee was just starting to subside, Alfred relaxed slightly and took a step forward, prompting Arthur to take a quick step back. Alfred only rolled his eyes, his mouth slightly quirked, and closed the distance between them. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to be hit for his troubles, but then he felt arms wrapping around his shoulders and a warm, exasperated puff of air against his neck.

Slowly, Arthur lifted his hands to rest them on Al's hips and waited for what was to come.

"Your last name is Kirkland. I'd say your favorite food is ice, but I see how you stare at those apple pies Angie makes every week. Your best friend's name is Sven, your eyes are pretty unbelievably green, and your foot size is… yet to be determined."

Arthur couldn't see Alfred's face, but from the heat slowly building against his neck, he imagined the other man was blushing just as badly as Arthur was. They were both new at this if one didn't count Alfred's short-lived romance with Francis – which Arthur didn't – and it probably should've been against some law for two people as foolish as Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones to even consider caring for one another.

"What a ridiculous pair we make." Arthur said quietly, only tightening his hold on Alfred's broad hips when the prince made a move to pull away.

"You can say that again." Alfred agreed, voice sounding slightly hysterical, though his eyes were lucid and focused, just the way Arthur liked them. "Is this what you were worrying about, Artie?"

He'd once hated that nickname, snapped at Al any time he so much as muttered it under his breath, but now it had some calming effect on Arthur, for it was the first thing Alfred breathed out when they made eye contact on the frozen waters of the fjord. Al had called out to him, and for a split second Arthur thought things would be okay. Even if it hadn't worked out exactly how Arthur had planned, the effect was still the same.

"Not entirely." Arthur admitted, somewhat distracted when Al started to toy with the hairs at the nape of his neck. "I – You – We're so different, Al."

"So?" Alfred countered, not entirely angry but still somewhat irked as he stared up into Arthur's eyes. They weren't at the same level just yet, Arthur managing to maintain some height over Alfred, though it wasn't by much. Someday, though, Arthur had a feeling Al would be the one looking down. "Opposites attract, right?"

Arthur chuckled at that, and Al's eyes darkened somewhat, though it was hardly noticeable. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

"Don't look so surprised."

"Thank you for bringing me here." Arthur said, tearing his gaze from Al's lest he do something stupid – well, stupid_er_ – and looking once more to the paintings. "I know it sounds strange, but I do feel like I know you better now."

"This used to be my safe haven. I guess it still is in a lot of ways." Al admitted. "Now it's yours, too, if you want. Certainly smells better than the stables." They were both quiet for some time, still wrapped around each other, until Alfred spoke again, hesitantly, "You know, when I noticed you leaving, I felt a bit scared."

"What? Why?"

Now it was Alfred's turn to fidget in embarrassment, but Arthur wasn't moving until Al explained, until the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach melted away. "I know you'd rather be somewhere, anywhere else, really. You've been quiet lately, and I thought you'd had enough or something."

"You thought I'd just up and leave without a word?" Arthur asked, shocked, but Alfred's only response was to bite his lip and nod slowly. "Alfred – "

"It's just… I messed up before. With Francis. When he turned on me after you brought me back, I thought I did something wrong to make him fall out of love with me. I figured out pretty quickly that it was his plan all along, but still." Alfred shrugged slightly, his fingers still at the back of Arthur's neck. "I don't want you to leave. I have Mattie back now, but it's not enough anymore. To feel any semblance of what my family had before, I need him, Tony, Sven, and… you."

A dozen different reassurances were flitting about in Arthur's mind, but he doubted he could communicate them to Alfred in words the prince would understand. Al was always talking about true love, but he was so terrified after what had happened with Francis that he didn't even know what true love was anymore, if he even had to begin with.

Just a month ago, Al had been searching for true love when on a deeper plane, the longing he felt wasn't to find a lover, but to regain the closeness he'd once had with his brother. No one would ever replace Matthew, Alfred knew that now, but he'd also realized that he hadn't been wrong about wanting someone outside of his family to care for.

Of course, Arthur couldn't speak for Alfred, but he liked to think he knew a thing or two about how Al's mind worked.

"I'm not going anywhere." Arthur said simply, and the words brought wetness to Alfred's eyes.

Alfred sighed and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Arthur's. "I want to kiss you so bad. Right now. All the time."

Arthur choked out a laugh, mortified partly because of how quickly the atmosphere had changed and how much he wanted the same thing as Al, probably four times as badly. "You don't have to ask. I don't mind. I mean, you can if you want to, but… you don't have to."

"Seriously. If Angie and Emma weren't always telling me how scandalous it is, there probably wouldn't be a single part of our bodies that weren't touching at all times."

"You don't really talk about these things with your nursemaids, do you?"

"No way! They can just tell. It's kinda creepy."

"Kinda." Arthur parroted, and Alfred rolled his eyes again before leaning up to press his lips to Arthur's.

There was nothing heated about it, simply a display of affection, but Arthur still felt dizzy when Alfred pulled away, like someone had delivered a solid blow to the back of his head. "I think about it a lot." Alfred mused randomly. "How it would have felt if you did make it to me, if I hadn't had to stop Francis from killing Matthew."

"I've never run that fast in my life." Arthur replied. It was the first time they'd spoken of that day to each other.

"Not even when Marshmallow was chasing us?"

"Not even then."

Alfred nodded slightly, studying Arthur's face for some unspoken reason. He looked a little sad, as if mourning the loss of whatever moment they could've had had it not been for Francis, but Arthur knew that saving Matthew had been Alfred's one and only priority that day and that the prince didn't regret a thing. "Arthur, I do… you know."

Arthur could have laughed. Alfred had no problem talking about wanting to kiss and touch him every hour of every day, but when it came to putting a reason as to _why _that was, he couldn't do it. Neither of them could at this point, but Arthur was perfectly fine with that.

Arthur had braved an unnatural blizzard, suffered through a nearly forced marriage at the hands of his own family, and made a complete ass of himself numerous times for this man. Alfred had trusted him, worried over his well being, and opened up to him, told Arthur things he'd never told anybody before, even when he was wounded enough to constitute avoiding any of those things.

They'd already proved over and over that they cared. They shouldn't have to say it.

"Yeah. Me too."


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: _I know Olaf is a goof in the movie, but after the whole, "Some things are worth melting for," comment, I'm utterly convinced he can be intelligent when he wants to be. It just takes a lot out of him ;) So, yup. That's why I wrote Tony the way I did here.

And just because this makes me laugh really hard in my head, Tony looks exactly like he does in the Hetalia anime, just made of snow and with a carrot for a nose, since child!Alfred wasn't satisfied with just any regular old snowman. Matthew had to learn to make ones that looked like aliens.

One more chapter after this!

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><p>Tony would never say anything, because he did have an important reputation to maintain, but there were actually a few things that he loved more than summer.<p>

Come to think of it, that was pretty ridiculous. Summer was summer! It had picnics and green meadows and warmth, flowers and butterflies and… other things that were in summer. Tony would have to be a lunatic to love _anything _more than, quite possibly, the greatest season ever.

Well, call him crazy, but it was true.

First, there was Arthur and Sven. They had to share a slot because they were essentially a package deal. Arthur was the third human Tony met after his creation, and Sven was the first and only reindeer that the snowman knew. They were two of his best friends, and Tony knew that he could tell them anything.

Sven never protested when Tony stayed in the stalls with him. Sometimes the snowman noticed that his flurries landed on the reindeer's fur when they were together. It must have been cold, but Sven never tried to move away. Maybe he never complained because he liked to eat the snow, though it could've been because he was an animal and couldn't talk.

Tony sometimes forgot about that since Arthur talked to the reindeer like he was a person and even voiced Sven's responses. It was kinda freaky, but then, Arthur was just naturally like that.

To be honest, he hadn't liked Arthur all that much at first. Tony didn't think he was actually capable of hate, and it wasn't as if he disliked the human personally. Arthur just… smelled kind of bad, and he yelled a lot, and he wouldn't let Tony drive Sven, _and _he took up too much of Alfred's attention initially.

Not to mention that Arthur was just going to _tell_ him that snow melted in summer and ruin his hopes and dreams. Tony hadn't known about it until Alfred told him weeks after it happened, but still. How rude!

But Tony was nothing if not forgiving. Arthur had redeemed himself by coming back for Alfred, and while he hadn't been able to do anything, Tony saw the water that fell from Arthur's eyes when Alfred froze over that day. Arthur was a man of integrity – a word Tony had learned while reading books with Alfred in the palace library – and he cared for him very much.

Then there was Matthew. He'd created Tony. He'd given him life, even if they were both still a little spotty on the details about that one. Matthew hadn't really meant to bring Tony to life, but the snowman appreciated it all the same. He remembered coming to on that mountaintop, blinking into awareness as a human he'd never seen before played in the snow right in front of him.

He'd cared deeply for Matthew then, even if he hadn't known who he was, exactly. That knowledge slowly filtered into his head the longer Tony was awake. At that point in time, all he'd seen was a man, running around like a child and shouting to the dark sky above that he was finally free. Tony hadn't known what any of it meant, but he'd been so _fascinated, _drawn to the human for whatever reason.

It had dawned on him exactly who the stranger was when he'd spun around from where he'd been trekking up the mountain's slope, hair wind blown and cheeks stained a dark red, though he'd been grinning from ear to ear. "I don't know why I was terrified before." He'd breathed, awe-struck, and he'd started to laugh. "Everything seems so small from up here."

Those were the first words Tony had ever heard, Matthew's face the first thing he'd seen. He'd witnessed Matthew in his most vulnerable moment, in the wake of his expulsion and self-discovery – more words he'd learned with Alfred – when the man was shaky under the weight of everything he'd realized about himself.

Tony owed Matthew everything. He'd given him summer, for crying out loud! And of course, he'd gifted Tony with the most important thing of all: his own memories.

Matthew had created Tony in the midst of nostalgia. When the snowman was born, he hadn't known much aside from the fact that he was alive. As time went on, things started coming to him.

Ballrooms covered in ice. Parents. Apple pie and colors, blue and green to name a couple. Warmth and hugs. Laughter. Which brought Tony to the thing he loved most, more than anything, _ten times_ more than summer.

Alfred was at the center of Tony's being. He was warmth and sunshine, the color green and laughter and all the other things Matthew had been thinking about when he created Tony that night. The snowman would like to think that he'd do anything for Alfred. He loved him ridiculously, enough to melt for him no matter how hard Alfred had tried to convince him to go, to just leave Alfred behind.

Like he could have. Alfred had showed him every kindness as they trekked across the mountains and beyond together, and Tony was going to do whatever it took to repay him. Alfred wasn't perfect by any means. He fumbled with nearly everything and didn't know his own strength, had shoved Tony's nose so far into his head that he'd seen stars for a good ten minutes. He'd even freaked out and kicked Tony's head clean off when they first met!

Tony hadn't been expecting that one, especially since the Alfred in his head rushed to hug him at every opportunity.

But Tony loved Alfred despite all his faults, as he'd learned to do with all the humans. No one was perfect – Tony could begrudgingly admit that he had his own quirks – but Alfred was just… awesome. There was no other word for him, not that Tony knew of anyway.

"You kind of remind me of… well, me when I was a kid." Matthew had said to him once.

There was a reason for that. Tony was every joyful memory that Matthew had from his childhood. He was actually kind of shocked that he'd figured that out before the man himself did.

Up on that mountain, Matthew had poured every ounce of his past into a single snowman. He'd been ready to move on, to forget about Alfred and his past and live a life of isolation and freedom in a frozen world of his own making. That being said, Tony didn't feel as if he didn't have a mind of his own. Actually, the one thing Matthew hadn't given Tony, his intense love of summer, wasn't what the snowman cherished most.

That, if nothing else, was more telling than anything.

Tony enjoyed being Matthew's creation, and he was grateful for everything the man had given him, the boy with the blue eyes and crooked grin especially.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: _And here we are at the end. Like I said in a previous author's note, I never planned to do much with this fic. Just a few snippets here and there. But it was fun. I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did!

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><p>Matthew was trying to sort through paperwork when there was a knock on his door.<p>

"Come in!" He said without thinking about it, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Matthew had forgotten that being King involved more than throwing extravagant parties and turning the courtyard into something akin to a frozen playground. Over the past few months, he'd taken some time off and allowed his work to pile up as he reacquainted himself with the world and with Alfred, and now it seemed that he was paying the price.

The door creaked open slowly, so Matthew knew that it most likely wasn't his younger brother or Tony, though that hardly narrowed down his options. When he glanced up, he realized with some surprise that it was Arthur; and he was alone.

The mountain man was hardly ever alone with Matthew, and he'd certainly never showed up in the king's office without Alfred in tow before. As the partner of the crowned Prince of Arendelle, Arthur had free reign over the palace and everything in it, but he hardly exercised that power.

"Oh." Arthur said when he noticed the pile of papers on Matthew's desk. "I'm sorry. If I'd known you were busy – "

"You're fine." Matthew laughed, beckoning to Arthur. "I need a distraction anyway. Foreign policies are such a bore. Is there something you need?"

"I'm actually just looking for Alfred." Arthur admitted, moving further into the room. He looked mildly uncomfortable, but it was a vast improvement to how he'd been when he first moved into the palace all those months ago. Arthur had refused to go anywhere without Alfred at his side, and while he claimed it was to ensure that he didn't get lost, Matthew hadn't been so sure. "Has he been through here?"

The young king shook his head. "I haven't seen him since dinner last night. Have you checked the stables?"

"I've searched every inch of this palace." Arthur sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I swear. Your brother tells me not to worry about him and then he vanishes without a trace."

"That's Al." Matthew said fondly. He wasn't going to worry about his brother just yet. Alfred was still learning to enjoy his freedom, but it wasn't often that he left the palace without telling anybody. Usually he took Arthur or Tony along, though Matthew had heard the snowman singing as he walked up and down the halls all afternoon. "Try not to get too worked up, okay? I'm sure he intended to be back before anyone noticed he was gone."

"As if the whole place doesn't quiet down when he's not around." Arthur muttered, and Matthew ducked his head down, pretending to write something whilst hiding his smile.

"Mattie!" The door burst open, hitting the wall so loudly even Arthur jumped. "Matt, I need to – Oh, hey, Artie! I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"_You've _been looking for _me_?" Arthur repeated, turning around to stare at Alfred incredulously. Matthew propped his chin up with his hand as he watched them, fascinated. "I've been walking around this place all afternoon! Don't you think we would have run into each other at some point?"

Alfred shook his head, walking up to Arthur and leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek. They were about the same height, so it wasn't too difficult. Matthew himself had given his brother and Arthur permission to court one another, but at one point, they'd both been too embarrassed and shy to even so much as hold one another's hand in public.

They'd been a marvel to the townspeople, who'd latched onto their relationship in ways no one had anticipated. The citizens of Arendelle had always loved Alfred, even when he never left the castle, and they'd accepted Arthur's presence at his side with little to no fanfare. There were those who disapproved of course, set in the old ways, but the prince and his partner were none the wiser.

They did what they pleased now, though Arthur and Alfred were still every bit the fumbling idiots Matthew had seen the morning after he'd put an end to the unnatural winter.

Frankly, watching the two of them together made him a little ill. That was how corny they were.

"I know all the hidden passageways and you don't." Alfred was saying, latching onto Arthur's right arm. His cheeks were a little red, his breathing slightly ragged, and Matthew quirked an eyebrow, though his brother was paying him no mind. "That's probably why we didn't see each other."

"Why in the world would you be looking for me in secret hallways that I know absolutely nothing about?"

"Good question. I have no idea." Alfred said, shifting his gaze to Matthew. "I need to talk to you."

"I'm all ears." Matthew replied.

Alfred took a deep breath, grinning from ear to ear, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he suddenly froze. "Wait. Arthur! You need to leave."

The blue-eyed prince released his hold on Arthur's arm only to grab at his hand, tugging the older man toward the door.

"Am I missing something here?" Arthur was laughing, allowing Alfred to pull him along as he was usually wont to do.

"We'll talk later. Promise." Alfred said, kissing Arthur on the mouth before shoving him gently from the room and closing the door. Matthew watched, grinning mirthfully as Alfred spun around again. "Okay, now we're alone."

"That we are. What did you want to talk to me about?"

Alfred sighed, a look of exhaustion settling over his features as he moved to sit down in the chair on the other side of Matthew's desk. "I guess I should tell you where I've been first."

"Okay." Matthew said at length, though Alfred didn't take the cue to begin his story. "I'm waiting."

"I know, I know, hold your horses. I'm trying to get my thoughts together." Alfred said, drumming his fingers on the arms of the chair. At that, Matthew's interest was peaked. Alfred didn't normally put much thought into the things he said, which made him a horrible liar and a surprisingly blunt person. Something was off. "Well, I went to see Arthur's family."

Matthew blinked. "You mean the trolls?"

Alfred nodded. "I wanted to talk to them about Arthur. And about the rituals and customs for their marriage ceremonies."

The last time Alfred came to Matthew with the prospect of marriage, it obviously hadn't worked out so well. Just thinking about it, about Francis and what he'd tried to do, made Matthew ridiculously angry, and his fists clenched atop his desk. That man could have done whatever he wanted to Matthew, but dragging his younger brother into what had been a strictly political matter had crossed a line.

Now that marriage was being brought up again, Matthew didn't feel panic as he had the first time. Only protectiveness; and smug approval, because he'd known this would come up sooner rather than later.

"Oh, did you now?" He drawled, sitting back in his chair. This was much more interesting than paperwork.

"Don't be a smartass." Alfred muttered, though he was smiling. "And don't worry. I'm just thinking ahead. Nothing's gonna happen any time soon."

"Why not? It's obvious that you two are completely enthralled with one another."

"I know. And I've known this one for eight months, not just a day." Alfred crossed one leg over the other, lifting a hand to his mouth to bite at his nail, a nervous habit he'd had since childhood. "I just realized that this is real, ya know? Arthur and I are courting, so we're gonna get married eventually. I guess I was just curious."

Matthew thought it went a little further than curiosity. Maybe Arthur had hinted at something, or Alfred was just taking the initiative on his own, but the King was utterly convinced that bells would be ringing throughout Arendelle within the year.

"Well, I approve." Matthew said, and his brother's eyes flickered up to meet his own. "I couldn't ask for a better brother-in-law. And he helps to keep you in check when I'm otherwise," he paused to gesture as his cluttered desk, "distracted."

"He's more than I could have ever hoped for." Alfred replied, leaning forward to pluck one of the papers off Matthew's desk. "So. What has the King been doing today?"

"Nothing of importance." Matthew said blandly. "Reading over apologies from the King and Princes of the Southern Isles. Disregarding more indignant correspondence from the Duke of Weselton."

"Sounds fun." Alfred laughed, putting the paper back after looking it over briefly. Matthew didn't doubt that his brother was intelligent enough to understand politics despite not having the training that Matthew had, but it was of little interest to Alfred. He was definitely the free spirit of their family. "It's so weird to think that it hasn't been that long since you were a shut in. Now you're efficiently running our kingdom."

Matthew nodded. He couldn't say that he missed spending all his time alone in his own frozen wonderland, but he did miss the simplicity of that lifestyle. "It's a bit of an adjustment. It's nothing I can't handle though."

Alfred's eyes, narrowed lazily and dark in the partially lit office, seemed to shine with something akin to pride as he said, "You're the best at what you do. And not every land can say that their ruler has awesome magic powers."

"True." Matthew mused, flicking his wrist and watching as Alfred blinked up at the snowflakes suddenly falling just over his head. "And it will deter anyone who wants to start a war. Only those who live here know that I'm not much of a threat unless provoked."

"I think I always knew you weren't dangerous." Alfred said absently, distracted still by the snow. "Even when everything was freezing over, I couldn't bring myself to believe that you would leave things as they were."

"When we were kids, you always thought my powers were amazing." Matthew said quietly. As close as they'd become in recent months, there was still a gray area between the brothers that was caused by all that Alfred didn't remember about their childhood. It bothered Alfred his memories had been altered, and if doing so wouldn't cause him to freeze over again, the Grand Elder of the trolls probably would have removed the spell on him.

Matthew told his brother about their escapades, and while Alfred was always keen to listen, something in his eyes told Matthew that he cared little for the stories, wanted his own memories to fill in the gaps.

"I guess I was able to retain that much." Alfred said, looking back to Matthew and smiling slightly. "Even troll magic can't take you from me completely."

"That wasn't the intent. Mom and Dad only wanted to save your life."

"And you distanced yourself from me because of it." Alfred insisted. "I'm not mad or anything. I know that if they just left me as I was, I would've died, but I – " He paused, eyes suddenly wide with horror. "Wait, I didn't mean it like that!"

Matthew shook his head, waving off his brother's concern. "It was exactly like that. I got carried away and you could have died because of it."

"I don't like that being on your conscience." Alfred said, clearly distressed. Matthew waved his hand again, stopping the brief snowfall. "You never meant to hurt me."

"Whether or not I meant to is irrelevant. It still happened, and we both paid the price for it." The young King had spent too long wallowing in self-pity, despising his life and his powers and his inability to control them. He was done with that, however, and Alfred should share the same sentiment. "I'm finally starting to forgive myself, though. Nothing to worry about."

At that, Alfred relaxed somewhat; but there was a contemplating look on his face, and he'd gone back to biting his nails. Matthew sensed there was something else that his brother wanted to say and stayed quiet, waiting.

"Do you think – " A drawn-out sigh. "Do you think Mom and Dad would be proud of us? I think they would be."

And there it was. The two of them had never discussed the death of their parents before. Despite what his brother might say to the contrary, Matthew had a suspicion that he would never be truly forgiven for not attending the funeral, for leaving Alfred to face his trauma alone. "I don't have to think. I know they'd be proud."

Alfred snorted. "You're pretty certain there, brother mine."

"Well, why wouldn't they be? You never completely gave up on me, you put yourself in a ton of dangerous situations to save Arendelle, and you risked your life to save _me_. You're a prince worth praising."

"We're not just talking about me, though."

Matthew nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, I know. I suppose they'd be proud of me because I finally learned to control my powers. I didn't run away like when we were kids. I'm taking responsibility as the heir to the throne and as your older brother."

Alfred offered his brother a crooked grin, and suddenly a single tear was spilling from the corner of his left eye.

Every protective instinct Matthew had as the eldest child had been pent up for much too long, and he jolted in his seat despite the fact that Alfred was, for the most part, completely composed.

"Calm down." Alfred laughed, reaching up to wipe the offending tear away with the heel of his palm. "I've been thinking about Mom and Dad a lot lately. I miss them."

"I do as well." Matthew said, feeling more than a little foolish for his reaction. "They passed away too soon."

"No kidding." Alfred replied. "I wish they could've met Arthur. He's pretty gentle, but Dad would've swooned over his handshake."

"I don't doubt that. Mom probably would have insisted that you two married as soon as possible."

Alfred laughed again, though his eyes were keen. "You really think they would've liked him?"

It was obvious to Matthew that his brother's inquiry mattered to him a great deal. It had probably been plaguing Alfred's mind for weeks, possibly months. Their parents' approval had always meant the world to Alfred; and possibly Matthew's own approval, though Alfred had acquired that long ago.

"They would've _loved _him." Matthew said with conviction. "If not because he's a strong and kind person, then because of the look you get on your face when he's around."

"Look?" Alfred repeated, tilting his head slightly. "What look?"

Matthew threw his brother a look of his own, one thoroughly unimpressed. "Don't play dumb."

"I'm not _playing, _I'm genuinely curious. I can't see myself most of the time!"

"You're smitten and everyone knows it." Matthew declared, smirking as his brother's ears started to stain crimson. "Arthur may as well be the cure for all human suffering, what with the way you perk up when he walks into the room."

Alfred shrugged sheepishly, though he wasn't the only who was positively terrible at keeping his affections a secret. Arthur was just as bad if not more so, though he was far more reserved than his chosen partner.

"You're just jealous." Alfred retorted, singsong. "We gotta get you a Queen. Or a King consort, whatever suits your fancy."

"Someday, but not today." Matthew said, picking up his quill. "I really should get back to work."

"Have fun with that." Alfred grunted, uncrossing his legs and pushing himself to his feet. "I should probably go find Arthur before he works himself up thinking something is wrong. I'll see you at dinner?"

Matthew nodded, meeting his brother's curious stare evenly. "Of course."

Some part of Alfred was convinced Matthew was going to disappear again, of that the King was certain. Perhaps not in the way he'd left previously, but Matthew could very easily disappear within his duties and not have time for his younger brother.

But Alfred had nothing to worry about. His parents would probably be aghast, but worldly affairs and the state of his kingdom would always come second to Alfred. Before the accident, there had always been Alfred, his laughter and the snowmen they would build together.

Matthew had disregarded their bond once before, and he wasn't going to make that mistake again. Alfred needed to know that.

"Good." Alfred said, turning to leave. "I'll be off, then."

Matthew observed his brother's retreating form fondly. "Leave the door open, would you?"

Alfred blinked, his fingers wrapped around the door handle. For a moment, the two of them stared at one another, but then Alfred grinned cheekily. "Sure thing. See you later, Mattie."

Matthew stared at the open doorway, listening to his brother's retreating footsteps. It wasn't the first time he'd done so, but Matthew didn't feel hopeless, as he had when he was a teenager. He would see Alfred later at dinner, and again at countless dinners after that, for there was nothing holding him back any longer.

The King of Arendelle laughed to himself before retuning to his paperwork.


End file.
